Don't Panic
by FrolickingButterfly
Summary: Artemis Fowl the Second is six years old. Artemis Fowl the Second has a gun.


The room was dark and imposing, closed velvet curtains firmly preventing any stray rays of sunlight from escaping inside. Although the lack of light made the room seem smaller, it did not make it any cozier and the atmosphere was as chilly and unwelcoming as the frosted glass ornaments lining the tall shelves and the sinister shadows they produced. Against the far wall of the room stood a desk; at the desk sat a small boy dressed in a slightly-too-big suit which gave him the almost comical appearance of having extremely wide shoulders. Light was emanating from the laptop his body was shielding, an icy blue light which did little to improve the atmosphere of the room. The boy was six years old and, by the way his fingers were flying over the keyboard, it seemed he meant business. Amongst the tapping of keys and gentle humming of the computer came a slightly more disturbing sound – the sound of gunshots.

Onscreen, a small figure was bravely attempting to run up the great mountain ahead of it, head down, legs and arms pumping. This figure was totally, 100 percent, focused on the objective, the goal. To reach the gold at the top of the hill.

The boy snorted with an eloquence that made him seem a lot older than his actual age. This was ridiculous – why was he allowing himself to be sidetracked by a game as mundane as this? But Juliet had said it was fun, that he should try it, that there was no way he would be able to beat her high score.

He never could refuse a challenge.

_Pow, pow!_

The main figure, having toiled halfway up the mountain, drew a large gun, cocked it, and shot at several of the identical figures attempting to attack it. They died instantly, their computer-generated souls deserting the corpses, floating up and up until they reached computer-generated heaven (no doubt a large mass of ones and zeros). This was death at its most trivial and death at it's most rewarding for, as soon as the figures went down, the score at the top right-hand corner of the screen went up. The boy felt no remorse for the deaths of these foes, no guilt weighing him down. They were simply faceless figures trying to distract to distract him from his goal and, once removed from the equation, would trouble him no longer.

Juliet said she had reached a score of 21, 333. Artemis was currently on 13, 084.

_The gold. The gold is the key._

Firing off another dozen rounds (another dozen dead), Artemis manipulated the figure until it was, yet again, picking its path up the mountain. But, _oh no!_ there was a larger group of people approaching him and they were not looking friendly. Getting caught up in the game, the boy gritted his teeth and fired rapid shots, his fingers dancing over the controls, spinning a beautiful, deadly rhythm.

_Pow, pow, pop!_

He was out of bullets. But he still had an axe. It was slightly more complex to operate, and this nearly always meant more time consuming, but Artemis needed to get this score and even the threat of RSI wasn't going to stop him.

_Hack, hack._

A faceless woman lay on the floor, surreal red dots decorating the ground on which she lay.

_Hack, hack._

A girl fell onto the ground, her spear gracefully coming to land next to her.

_Hack, hack. Hack, hack, hack._

A large man, a short man. They all looked different, but difference would not protect him from the nonchalant wrath of the boy's virtual sword.

And, still, the boy's conscious remained untouched by what he was doing.

Soon, there was nothing left between his figure and the gold. Artemis felt a rush of excitement thrill him from head to toe – his score was at 20, 009; he was going to beat Juliet!

Then a large monster rose up, up, out of the ground, a rather large obstacle which was crushing Artemis's happiness with the same ease as it could crush the figure if it only stepped forward.

_Out of bullets…_

The boy frowned.

The monster reached for him…

Artemis frantically slashed with the axe, but the pitiful drops of crimson which peppered the ground only served testament to the hopelessness of the situation.

…And picked him up.

The screen went black.

Game over.

Sighing, the boy stood up and stretched, shoulder pads on the blazer lifting uncomfortable. He was fed up with this game. It was all kill, kill, kill until you get killed yourself. Artemis wondered, what was the point? The hours spent toiling just to be let down by the final obstacle. And if, by any miracle, you were to get to the gold, what would you do then? There was no physical reward, just some annoying electronic fanfare and the chance to write your name on the high score list.

Blatantly ignoring the "Play Again" button, Artemis pulled open his internet browser, preferring to spend his time attempting to hack into Interpol. But, as his fingers stood poised over the keys, his brain produced a new thought, something Artemis Fowl had never thought before.

_What is the point?_

It was the same in this game, this game called life. Try and make the best living you can, try and get a high score…

And if you had to kill people along the way?

Artemis pushed this slightly morbid thought to the back of his six year old mind where it disappeared as rapidly as a young child playing hide and seek, to lurk until its chance to reappear, many, many years in the future. With resolve this time, Artemis began tapping codes into the keyboard, refusing to be swayed by this slightly disturbing question.

Because this was the game of life.

Artemis Fowl the Second was the player.

And Artemis Fowl the Second was determined to win.


End file.
